


Spines

by cytara



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Be prepared for contradiction after contradiction, Camping, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Forbidden Love, Friends is a fine line here, Hiking, If you consider arguing angst then you're welcome, Nature, No Twincest, Oh no - there was only one sleeping bag, Oh no - they get separated from their team while hiking, Poor packing, Rivals, Smut - let's be real, Team building retreat, backpacking, lots of bickering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:55:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26758366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cytara/pseuds/cytara
Summary: Brienne and Jaime are rival managers for an outdoor retail company. On a team builder backpacking retreat, the two of them take the wrong trail and realize their mistake too late. Even in the desert, the weather gets cold.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 47
Kudos: 174
Collections: Jaime x Brienne Week 2020





	Spines

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the amazing @theunpaidcritic for editing/beta reading this work, and thank you to @2manycharacters for reading it over!
> 
> For JB Week 2020, this qualifies for lust (ahem, of course) and a handful of other virtues/sins—although, I decided to focus on the topic of vulnerability throughout this fic.
> 
> Every section marks a change in POV. 
> 
> Given my two toddler spawn and one more on the way, I haven’t been backpacking in the wilderness in years (omg someone help me), and I greatly miss it! If I can’t backpack, I can have JB backpack! Once this idea popped into my head it refused to leave. Apologies ahead of time if you’re a camper/backpacker and the words I use are different—I’ve used American lingo for backpacking culture, although, JB are in Westeros… somewhere in the desert! Enjoy!

Spines protected cacti like swords, jetting out in every direction for defense, shade and water conservation. If they did not have spines, their flesh would be eaten for water—a precious resource in the desert. Brienne glanced at the various species and appreciated their ingenuity to defend themselves in the desert. Most saguaros towered twice as high as her, and they had lived in their permanent place for a stubborn hundred years or more. Not a single cactus looked identical to another. They covered the rocky and beige mountains. Animals avoided the sharp thorns of cacti. 

Gravel, dirt and minerals crunched under her tan hiking boots. Brienne had tightened the ankle lacing and looped her wool socks over the top of her boots to prevent loosening. She had no time to waste retying her boots because she wanted to reach her team’s campsite first. The silence of enjoying nature without Hyle’s voice gave her more than enough motivation to hike quickly, but one problem stood in her way: Jaime Lannister.

Jaime’s backpack, from his shoulders to his tailbone, blocked a portion of Brienne’s view. They were both outdoor gear store managers at rival branches in the same city, and despite his position, his backpack was a sparkling new blue from The West Face—as if he had never backpacked before. He was laughable, a recreational store manager who never backpacked or camped. At the start of their team building hike, Jaime rambled about how _blue_ his backpack was compared to hers, her trusty and faded blue Mormont backpack.

Their district manager had tried to keep group conversation light, but Jaime and Brienne inevitably slipped ahead and into their own bickering world. Jaime wouldn’t shut up. And since he walked in front of her, she only heard half of his words.

Brienne stabbed her walking stick into the ground, which barely moved anything except a thin layer of dry dirt. She said, “You know, I can’t hear half of your mumbles. You sound a bit out of breath. Take a break.”

Jaime stopped and turned, eyes piercing. Sweat beaded at his hairline, likely from their mountainous ascent from two hours of hiking. “You can’t hear because you’re lagging behind, just like your store numbers.” He, too, thrust his walking stick against the ground and used his other hand to count to three. “What was it, I’m ahead in year-to-date numbers in _three_ categories?”

They were not supposed to talk about work on their team builder backpacking retreat, but Brienne knew well enough not to repeat the rules—he never followed them. “My store is ahead where it counts most.”

He huffed out a single laugh. His gray Arc’teros jacket tightened against his chest. Brienne looked away, bracing for his comeback.

Jaime tilted his head to the side with a smirk. “Ahead in theft?”

The truth was, both Jaime and Brienne currently competed for the best store numbers in their city—and had always competed since they first met as store associates years ago. They shared a perpetual rivalry from the first day they met. He worked upstairs in clothing and shoes while Brienne worked downstairs, selling camp gear. Both of them were promoted to managers of different stores, although her path was arguably more honorable.

Brienne made no attempt to hide her rolled eyes and stormed closer. “Profit,” she said, voice tense. Jaime stood his ground, blocking the thin trail when she said, “Step aside.”

“I’m not yielding the front,” he said. Her eyes glared into his before he smirked, turned and walked forward. Walls of jagged rock and boulders refused her any room to pass him.

“You barely yield anything unless it’s by force,” Brienne said under her breath.

Jaime hesitated. Her words couldn’t have been too harsh, not after their history—not after what happened with Aerys, their first manager. He heard comments like that all of the time, she was sure of it. As expected, he resumed his pace, but he remained quiet.

Desert autumn air mixed in with the metallic, earthy scent around them. She clenched her teeth and looked to the sky—filled with white clouds. The weather was pleasant, maybe a few degrees below room temperature, but it was expected to be close to freezing after nightfall. Rain was expected overnight. 

Now on a downward slope, a strip of delicate fall leaves entered their view. Broadleaf trees grew along a small creek—an oasis and riparian zone in the middle of the desert mountains. The thought of water made Brienne thirsty, so she grabbed the rubber mouthpiece off her shoulder and sucked. Water from the small pipe felt cold on her tongue, soon followed by warmer water from her hydration bladder, tucked away in her backpack.

Jaime looked at her. She let the mouthpiece fall from her mouth as if she had been caught stealing candy.

He stopped and narrowed his eyes, hand gripping the handle of his walking stick. Brienne scowled.

“You seem upset we’re talking about work,” he said with his half smile. “We’re far ahead, they won’t hear Big Brienne breaking the rules.”

Oh, how he loved saying that name, and she never knew what he meant by it. Maybe he referenced her height, but the insult seemed too simple, factual and basic for him to use with that proud expression of his. She thought of her big thighs, big nose or big hands—she failed to understand him. He had called her big when he first met her, and the name stuck when they found a regrettable mutual hobby of rock climbing once they both became managers. She thought she was free of him, but she never was. He never called her Brienne without the word “big” in front of it, but then again, her name coming from his lips would only distract her.

She raised her chin. “I’m only upset they won’t see me leave you in the dust.”

“You’ve grown quite the skill in sarcasm.”

“Apparently, you need the skill to recognize sarcasm.”

Jaime gave a weak smile. “I’ll clarify and say that this is much improvement from when we first met. You barely said two words to me, let alone three words to a customer. In another three years, maybe you’ll add another sentence.”

“I remember how you never stopped and still won’t stop talking.”

“Why waste a perfect gift?”

Her muscles and mind were tired, but the more they stood still, the more time they risked Hyle and the rest of the managers catching up with them. As horrible as Jaime was, he was no Hyle—a man vile enough to try and woo Brienne as a game. Hyle’s affections seemed sweet at first, the roses and the gifts, but once she heard through breakroom gossip that Hyle only gave her gifts to climb the career ladder, she made a promise to herself: never date anyone from work, even if corporate allowed relationships between employees.

“Get moving,” Brienne said.

Jaime frowned, seemingly upset at her order. Even while scrunching his brows, he looked like a god compared to Hyle. Far too good looking to show any affection to _her_ —every smile and wink from Jaime was clear mockery. His words cut deep, but she learned to cut deeper. They hated each other, and yet, they found bits of fun in their competition, and their mutual hatred was as close to a respectful relationship as either of them could stand.

Through towering trees and silence, they crossed the creek and sloped up another hill. Squirrels danced between hanging branches. Her head became empty when they approached the fork in the trail. The saddle landmark between two connecting mountains forced them both to stop and look for a trail sign—only to see nothing but brush and rocks. The sign was missing.

“I’ll get my map,” Brienne said, the first words spoken for fifteen minutes. She unbuckled the chest strap of her backpack.

“Too late and too slow. I already have mine out.” Jaime waved the topographic map between them with a triumphant smile.

“Let me see,” she said and faced him.

“Hold on, hold on, this is _my_ map.”

“You never hike. Let me check.”

“Isn’t the point of this team builder to prove how useful we can all be to each other? Where would be the fun in letting you do everything? Answer me this, and I’ll let you check—”

“Why do you make everything so difficult?” Brienne groaned. She rebuckled her strap.

“I’m not the one who buried their map in their backpack!” Jaime stared at his map, refusing to look at her. 

When given the choice to walk closer to him and peer over his shoulder, she stayed still and asked, “What ridiculous question do you have?”

“Earlier,” he said, eyes dashing up to meet hers. “What did you mean by force?”

She blinked and squeezed her walking stick. “Take whatever meaning you want out of it.” 

“I know you didn’t mean Aerys or you wouldn’t be out here alone with me.”

She’d never forget the night when Aerys was arrested. It was an early winter morning, an hour before the doors opened to the public on the day of a massive holiday sale. A hundred customers camped outside the doors just to get their hands on doorbuster items. By the time Brienne walked inside, Aerys’s office was locked and police had stormed in. She had stood there, shivering in her puffer jacket while sirens and lights surrounded them. Police taped the scene and dragged Jaime out of the office in handcuffs. Before Aerys was brought out, police ordered everyone to leave the building. Brienne had answered question after question, like how well Jaime and their manager got along—not well at all. She remembered feeling angry, not scared. Jaime had been released the following day. There was no criminal or company investigation, despite the rumors Jaime played a part in Aerys’s arrest, and what he was arrested for, Brienne never knew. Rumors flew around and intensified when Aerys died in custody. Jaime was promoted to the new manager. Brienne would have left the company if the district manager had not promoted her as well, finally ending the almost daily jabs and glares Jaime sent Brienne.

Now, the two of them only saw each other at weekly rock climbing hour and at team building events once every quarter. Jaime never let his guard down, never took what happened or anything else seriously. His store had high turnover, likely due to his harsh management style—so yes, in every sense of the word, he was forceful. 

The topic of Aerys was a sour one for them both, and Brienne hated it whenever he brought it up. Last time they talked about Aerys, he and Brienne sat next to each other at a company dinner. Four drinks in, Jaime was drunk and had rambled about how horrible Aerys was, as if she needed a reminder. Jaime had dropped his jokes and whispered that Aerys had explosives in his office. She was sure he was joking. When Brienne turned to look at him, barely able to see him under the soft light of the restaurant, she stared in silence. He had stared back and then mocked her by asking if she had gone stupid— _”curse me, or kiss me or call me a liar. Something.”_ Brienne had stood and walked away.

“You brought him up, not me,” Brienne said. She crossed her arms, feeling sweat underneath her jacket. “Look, I don’t want to share maps anymore, just tell me where we’re going.”

He never responded. His hands folded the map, and he walked left, tucking the map in the side pocket resting on his hip. Brienne followed and appreciated the silence.

She should not have been surprised when Jaime spoke again on a steep incline. He asked, “You need a break, don’t you? I hear your huffing back there.”

“I need you to give me the lead—you can’t lead the entire way, we’re over half way there.”

“Fine,” he said and stopped. “I can’t wait to have your backpack blocking my entire view.” 

Standing still, Brienne thought better of her request. The slope continued, which meant he would be staring at _her_ —her big legs and big everything. His eyes on her were the last thing she wanted. “Nevermind,” she said, “it’s too cruel to leave you behind.”

He laughed and grabbed his water pipe and mouthpiece, but he didn’t drink. “Not cruel enough for you not to think about it. I could jog ahead and leave you, but if you run into a mountain lion, I have to be the one to tell it that you’re harmless. Poor thing will be frightened to death.” His faint smile disappeared so he could sip from his mouthpiece.

“You walk right up to that mountain lion, and I’ll wave you goodbye. It’s your funeral.” Brienne would have pressed ahead of him at this point, there was room, but she held herself back. She’d rather stare at him than have him stare at her.

Jaime huffed a mild laugh and shook his head. “I’ll let you write a eulogy for me, if you let me write yours.”

“I suppose I could write yours,” Brienne said, “and it would belong in the trash.”

“You’re learning,” he said with a smile. “I would continue this sparring, but I know you don’t want Mr. You-know-who to catch up with you.” He turned and resumed walking. Chilled wind brushed past them.

She followed and struck her walking stick against the ground with loud thumps. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on. You had a little failed rendezvous with him, and now it’s awkward.”

Brienne’s face heated and scrunched at the thought of sleeping with Hyle. “I—” 

“As soon as he became a manager you’ve been avoiding him.”

“I didn’t sleep with him.” The truth hurt more than she thought it would—almost no one would sleep with her unless they had a motive.

“It’s not against the rules,” he said, loud enough for her to hear over the rising wind.

“We’re breaking rules right now, Mr. Rule-follower. We should be with the others.”

He turned his head over his shoulder, jaw sharp and lips curved into a smile. “You want to be with Hyle right now?”

“Why not?” Brienne refused to let Jaime win this war, even if she needed to lie. “There’s nothing between us.”

“I can feel the chemistry between you two from here.”

“I knew we should have invited HR to this team builder.”

Jaime laughed. “Honorable Brienne. I’m saying this as your truest and most loyal _friend._ Why don’t you invite him to rock climbing nights?”

Brienne glowered, although Jaime never would notice. He used the word _friend_ , but clearly, they were enemies—rivals—anything but friends. At their rock climbing gym, they bickered and competed. They argued who could climb the fastest, and at least she considered their fights fair. Given how much they hated each other, they were paired well physically. They stood around the same height, were around the same age and each of them won around half the time. They had slipped into an odd routine of picking a course, arguing about store metrics and competing for the best climb of the night. It seemed they tolerated each other’s intolerance—until they didn’t. This, their solitude in the open aired and mountainous desert, turned out to be one of those intolerable times.

“I’ll bring a date when you bring a date,” Brienne said, meaning to sting him. Throughout their rocky rivalry, he had bothered her for being single—even when she dated a friend for a couple weeks—yet _Jaime_ was more single than her. He hadn’t dated anyone since she met him, as far as she knew. No one could endure him, surely.

He shook his head, still walking in front of her. Similar to Aerys, the topic of dating was a tough subject for them both, but _he_ brought it up first. She would never admit to him that she wanted to date, wanted to love—but only when she knew those affections would be returned. Brienne had been burned far too many times with her one-sided infatuations. Now in her late twenties, she found single life easier every year, so easy she never thought about dating.

As they finished climbing the slope, she wondered why Jaime never dated. He had a long term girlfriend as a teenager, that much Brienne knew, and he was certainly good-looking enough to fool women with his outward charms.

The desert, whenever Jaime’s mouth stopped moving, was quiet in spite of the wind. Unless they were close to a creek with large trees, the cacti, rocks and low brush on the rocky cliffs said nothing. Their boots and walking sticks filled Brienne’s ears, one crunch after another.

Thirty minutes passed without them saying a word, and they descended again into a new riparian zone. The trail weaved through a creek with off and on water. Trees loomed overhead, and now Brienne heard the whisper of autumn leaves. Nature awed her, and when Jaime stopped to look back at her, she stared. Sweat no longer clung to his skin, as far as she could tell. His eyes danced over her face. 

He stood on a large rock, stuck his walking stick into a shallow pool of water and asked, “How worried are you to have the regional manager drop by next week?”

Brienne stopped. Sand was more comfortable than hard dirt. She offered a small smile, thankful he didn’t bring up something more deep. “Not as worried as you—”

“I’m not worried.”

“We cleaned our carpets this week and as you know, I have the cleanest desk. That’s not even addressing our numbers.” She stepped forward, but he remained still until she stopped again within an arm’s reach of him.

He scoffed, looked away from her and resumed walking. “I’m sure they’ll love your clean carpets, Big Brienne, but _my_ store has the best restaurants nearby.”

“Good luck trying to woo your way out of your reviews. Your name is mentioned a lot lately.” Half of the reviews hated Jaime for his sarcasm towards angry customers, and another half swooned over him. 

“You read my reviews?” Jaime asked over his shoulder.

Brienne’s cheeks heated. She couldn’t blame redness on the sun—the clouds had already darkened. Eyes on the ground, mostly to avoid embarrassment, she focused on careful steps on rocks while she said, “We read every store’s reviews when we’re bored.”

“You’re bored because you have no customers.”

Furrowing her brows, she said, “We have a very loyal base, and a sweet older population.”

“And shitty restaurants, admit it.”

“I bring my own food.”

“How could I forget? You always brought a sandwich and banana every day. You’d peel the banana—” 

“At least I don’t waste my money eating out.”

“If you could buy thrifted food, you would, wouldn’t you?”

Brienne gasped.

Their bickering about food, a hot topic, continued for another twenty minutes. Jaime bragged how he brought wine for the evening, but he wouldn’t share a bit with her. He held back what he planned for dinner as if he withheld a prized secret she actually cared about—but she didn’t. She hardly got a word in, mostly because she _was_ hungry and a meal gave her something to think about other than the damn dispersed camping site.

At every turn, she expected to find the flat area fit for ten camping tents, but the site wasn’t there—only more creek, trees and the twisting trail. Every disappointment piled more stress onto her. She half listened to Jaime rambling about poached eggs while she saw less footprints of hikers and more paw-prints of animals. 

When they rounded another corner and saw no site, Brienne huffed to a stop. She unbuckled her heavy backpack and swung it to the ground. 

Jaime, farther ahead, turned and said, “What are you doing?”

“Checking the damn map.” She glared long enough at him to see his jaw clench. Her hands untied the top of her pack and dug inside.

“I have a map right here.”

“That’s _your_ map. It’s going to rain soon anyway, I need rain gear.”

“We’re almost there.”

She pulled out the map and quickly unfolded it. Double checking the numbers, the campsite was about a forty five minute hike from the fork on the trail and they had been hiking for an hour. Brienne squinted and observed the details in the topographic map—the trail made no sense—it entered a valley, not a creek. Her eyes darted back to the fork and her heart pounded when she saw the other trail, the wrong trail, follow the curve of a creek.

A raindrop fell onto the map. They were two hours in the wrong direction—alone.

——

Brienne’s blue eyes burned red when she looked up from the map, Jaime felt them.

“You were wrong,” she said, frowning. “You’re wrong. You made the wrong turn.”

Jaime’s guilt tempted him to look away, but he stared at her instead. She wore a beige off-brand jacket and hiking pants that were a size too large. He was unable to think of anything to say except, “There are no wrong turns when it comes to hiking.”

“We’re lost.”

“We’re not lost, just on a different trail—” 

“Stop your jokes, we’re separated from them.”

Just like that, Brienne snapped into manager mode—serious, judgmental and… hateful. He saw it in the way she looked at him, whether they bickered or got along for five seconds, she hated him, he knew. Everyone hated him, and it always came back to Aerys.

Jaime sighed through his regret, refusing to let guilt show. “It’s such a shame we’re stuck here all alone without any shelter, food or water—”

“You did this on purpose?” Her face scowled so deeply he took offense.

“You make it sound like I forced you to follow me!” Jaime stepped forward to match her intimidation. 

In truth, at the fork in the trail, the topic of Aerys weighed on his mind. His eyes had struggled to cooperate with him and he remembered staring at the map while his own pulse deafened inside his head. His hands had clammed over. Given how she reacted to his drunken admission about Aerys, she, along with most others in the company, judged him for taking Aerys’s managerial position. HR told Jaime to keep quiet about what had happened, and he also knew no one would ever believe him—and he was right. When he had told Brienne the start of the truth, she walked away from him. Jaime never needed Brienne’s approval. He wished he hadn’t let himself feel so nervous when he was deciding which path to take.

“I should have never trusted you,” she said. The words hurt as much as when she used the word force earlier. Shaking her head, she said, “We need to go back.”

“Unless you’re a fish with a sweater, that’s not a wise idea.”

“Wiser than here? They’re probably looking for us.”

“How do I know what those gaggle of geese are doing? I assure you they’re not going to look for very long.” Rain sprinkled onto him.

“They think I’m with you. Alone.” Brienne’s voice dropped. 

She was a poor, lost lamb. “How ever will I survive the reputation of being alone with Big Brienne? It’s not like I’ve done anything worse. Let’s take a break, calm down and talk about a plan.”

“The plan is to _go back._ ”

Jaime looked at his phone. As expected, he had no service and the time read five o-clock. He pulled out his more conveniently placed map and dragged his finger along the trails. “It’s going to take a night hike to get there—in the rain.”

“We’ll hike faster.”

“And slip and break our necks. Itching to get back to Hyle?”

“Will you shut up about that?!”

Jaime’s tension mirrored hers—both glared at each other with enough venom to kill a giant. They knew each other well enough to press each other into anger, that much he knew. But their hatred had never felt _this_ raw before.

“Chances are,” he said, “we won’t make it until after nightfall. Last thing we need is wet clothing, even rain covers can’t block everything—most of the hike is in the open.”

“You’re suggesting we stay here,” she stated, almost with disgust.

“As if it’s that bad? We have everything we need, we’ll meet up with them in the morning, and _I’ll_ let you lead the way.”

Brienne fell silent and stared at the creek. Jaime’s eyes followed, distracted by the autumn leaves freckled on the ground. Cold drops fell onto his neck and time became more crucial by the second. They weren’t entirely doomed—they stood beside a creek the length of his arm and a hand deep. The water twisted and carved its way deep into the ground, safe enough to allow a small swell after rainfall. Sand and wet earth softened under his feet. Looking to the sky, straggly and bare autumn branches gave Jaime a depressing omen. Hills, cliffs and boulders enclosed them in.

She said, “We’ll need to camp by water and filter more in the morning.”

“Yes.”

“And by camping near water, we’ll be extra cold.”

Jaime extended his jaw to hold back a sigh. “Should I pull out a desk and you can teach me more?”

“Pull out your gear, we’ll camp here.”

“There’s only room for one tent, only one of us can be here.”

She unclipped the rolled and packed tent from the bottom of her old pack. “Better find a different spot for your tent, then.”

There was no point in restraining his scoff. He felt like a kid waiting to be picked for a sports team, but he was the last pick—because no one wanted to be with Jaime Lannister—a vicious man, incredibly handsome, who would do anything to get ahead in his career. He never quite knew how to label his relationship with Brienne, a different outcast in her own right. People joked about how ugly she was, mostly behind her back, but he never joined in. Brienne and he were rivals, and everyone knew that, even that foul piece of fruit Hyle knew. And here Brienne was, embarrassed to be alone with _Jaime_. Their fighting had endured years, yet this felt like a new war altogether—one they would both lose.

Jaime stepped over fallen logs and rocks the size of Brienne’s back. A thirty second walk from her, he found a large boulder looming over a small patch of sandy earth. Orange aspen trees gave enough space for his tent, or for a hammock if he had brought one. With this good for nothing weather, he was happy he forgot it.

The last thing he wanted to do was set up his tent in silence—that wasn’t the fun part of camping. There was little entertainment in camping, which explained why he had packed wine. He called out to his _partner_ , “My spot is better than yours.”

She never responded.

The rain lightened, giving him a chance to watch a couple squirrels running for cover. Humidity and the oncoming chill of night filled the air—it was going to be a cold night. To make matters worse, the decaying leaves around him began to tap with a new onset of sprinkles. Dark clouds swirled over his head.

Now wet, the boulder released a wet mineral scent one could only experience in nature. Surely, this was the allure to campers everywhere, but Jaime had no interest in getting wet.

He set his backpack under the angled and dry space of the boulder and found his tent sack. His fingers worked quickly, but the rain was faster. One look at Brienne revealed she was only a fraction finished with setting her tarp down—tsk tsk.

“Come over here,” he shouted, “I’ll make cover and we can move it over when it’s lightened up.”

He could almost hear her grumbles when Brienne stormed over with her unfolded tent. She had wasted time by putting her green rain jacket on. Jaime smiled.

Waiting until she was close enough to be annoyed, he shook out his rain cover in front of her face—and her reaction was as delightful as he predicted. He failed continuously at flirting with women, but pissing Brienne off was his specialty.

Her eyes followed him as he reached to tie the corner of his rain cover to the first aspen branch.

“Wrong tie,” she said.

Jaime practically tripped over the dirt and stumbled a bit forward. “Excuse you?”

She placed her arm full of tent supplies next to his backpack under the boulder’s shallow protection before she grabbed a corner of the rain cover. “Use a bowline or taut hitch line. Bowline is easy to take out in the rain.”

A dozen insults flashed through his mind. Through sheer stubbornness, she tied three corners while Jaime tried to remember what knot was what. Brienne’s fingers, fearless and cold, snatched the twine from his hand. Had she always been so freezing?

He smirked, waiting for his next opportunity to give her a hard time. They had always gotten along better when they didn’t get along.

The cover acted like a tarped roof, hanging just above their heads. Loud and random drops of rain filled his ears until Brienne said, “You must like the color blue.”

Jaime looked up—yes, his rain cover and tent were blue—so what? In the slowly dying light of the day, he glanced at her, noticing blue eyes, and quickly looked away. “You know better than me that I don’t _like_ anything, remember?”

“Restaurants. That’s about it,” she said with a smile and left to grab her backpack from the rain.

By the time she returned, he had found his headlamp, fastened it on his head and pressed the white light on. She placed her backpack under the boulder, next to his. Her backpack was so worn, and the determined expression on her face made him wonder why she ever trusted him to read a map—and why he ever trusted himself to take charge, especially in front of her… and he had failed her. She’d never trust him again.

“Can you not shine that in my eyes?” she asked, placing her own headlamp on her forehead.

Jaime turned to her tent supplies. He probably had blinded her, but harming her didn’t feel like a win. The two of them spread out the tent together. She held out her hand for a silver pole, and he complied. He flashed back to when he had bothered her for missing a rock climbing night. She made him feel like shit when she had admitted she took the night off because she had an IUD placed.

As they raised her tent to standing, space under the temporary roof became incredibly limited. Both of them stood shoulder to shoulder, closer to the boulder and huddled under the tarped roof above the tent. Brienne had the awareness to ask, “When and where are we going to put up your tent?”

“Can we worry about that when we get to it? I’m using my single, daily gentleman card by letting you set up your tent first. Now I could kick you out of my spot if I wanted to.”

She forced a laugh. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.” Jaime looked at her, terribly more close than he originally thought—barely a breath away. He sized her up, soon imagining them stalking each other with their hands out, ready to fight to the death. It wouldn’t matter if they had a crowd cheering them on, he would give the fight his all—she could handle him. They’d grapple, rain or shine. The mere thought of turning their spar physical gave Jaime’s chest a surge—they wouldn’t stop until one was pinned under another and—

“After I get this cover on,” Brienne said, “can you help me stake it?”

Jaime blinked while she draped her orange rain cover over her tent. He cleared his throat. “I’ll help you carry it out, come back and do my tent.”

“I see your gentleman card is used up, but I doubt you ever had one.”

“Why should you stake it? You’ll be in there, it’ll never blow away.”

Brienne glared at him, her headlamp blinding his eyes.

Jaime smiled at the comfort of their argument and said, “What? Too much, or should I say, heavy?”

Without a word, she lowered and placed her tent stakes into the corners of the tent—just to spite him. Her expression, however, the wrinkle between her brows and scrunched nose revealed how angry she truly was. Jaime couldn’t hold his smile any longer. Every jab was a jab too close, and even in the cold rain, they played with fire. He ignored the whisper to quit their bickering game and gave into the impulse to raise the stakes. One hand holding his backpack, he reached in to pull out his sleeping bag—he’d love to see her face once he overtook _her_ tent with his stuff.

But his hand never found his sleeping bag. It was missing. Shit. 

——

Brienne wasn’t in the mood for their arguments. She clenched her teeth while she staked in her tent. Jaime said nothing.

“Nothing clever to say?” she asked when she finished the last corner. “You’re just going to let me take it?” Her words meant to antagonize him, but they seemed to affect her just the same. Truthfully, she was the same awkward girl she always thought she was, and now she acted like a dork in front of their first crush—but Jaime wasn’t one. 

“I’m afraid I’ll have to take yours…” he said, tone rather somber.

Brienne’s heart dropped and doubled in time—her cheeks filled and burned.

“I mean, if you have an extra. Or we could…” He sounded nothing like Jaime, soft when he would have been harsh and timid when he would have been confident.

“What are you talking about?”

“My sleeping bag. It seems to have walked off without me.”

He had annoyed her when he blinded her, but this time, Brienne spared no mercy and let her head light focus on his eyes—serious and unyielding.

“You don’t have… a sleeping bag?” She asked, desperately wanting him to laugh it off like it was a joke.

Jaime laughed anyway and shook his head. “Good thing our boss isn’t here to see this, huh? It’s fine, I have blankets and if I get too cold, I can wrap my tent around me.”

Brienne remained still. “And where would you sleep? In the trees?”

“Under here. This is my rain cover keeping us dry, if you can’t remember.”

“I remembered my sleeping bag.”

“Not two? I expected better from you.”

“Get your tent, let’s set it up,” she said, and instead of ignoring or fighting her order, he grabbed his tent.

There was little room to set his tent up, and she had already experienced enough intimate space next to him. She still worried he had caught her staring at him—he would never shut up if he knew she thought he was attractive. 

Jaime said, “Fuck.”

“What now?” She needed a distraction. “You packed a poncho? You know, people tend to pack the things they forgot on their last trip. Forgetting a tent is quite the achievement.”

“It’s soaked.”

“What do you mean it’s soaked?”

“Well, Big Brienne, when water falls from the sky, it tends to fall and collect on things—”

“You want to freeze to death, don’t you?” She was serious.

“Well…” he paused, “I thought I was too hot to worry about that. I have blankets.”

Luck seemed to have left her the moment she followed Jaime and separated from the rest of their group. She stood under caving rain cover with the most ill-prepared man of the century. And worse, people would ask how she came to be lost with him. The facts, however, could not be ignored—he was so neglectful and unlucky that he risked his own well-being. With no sleeping bag and a wet tent, he was in danger. She couldn’t refuse to help someone who desperately needed it, even if it was Jaime.

She cleared her throat and said, “Bring your _dry_ blankets into my tent and don’t say a word about this to anyone.”

Jaime was quiet, and she waited for him to laugh at her suggestion: sharing a tent. They’d have room, she figured, because she always used a two person tent for herself. The extra space gave her legs room to spread out. 

With enough clothes and their backpacks between them, they could avoid touching each other, she hoped. The worry of his safety outweighed the worry of gossip whenever they would return to the others. No one would believe her if she said they shared a tent—there was no way _Jaime Lannister_ would share with her unless he was forced to. Now, he was forced to.

“Not in a rush to write my eulogy, huh?” he finally said.

“Not tonight.”

Heavy air pulsed around them. They shared a look, and his eyes held an unknown expression. Brienne’s throat ran dry. The middle of the rain cover, which had blocked out the rain rather well, sank towards the middle as it pooled with rain water. Pressing against her, the sinking roof forced them closer—enough where she dimmed her headlight and looked away from him.

If he was Hyle, she wouldn’t do this. When she asked herself why, her mind never answered. She said, “Put your stuff in, I’m going to the bathroom.”

The rain and darkening world around her felt eerie. She thought she would feel relieved to escape the gaze of Jaime, but if anything, loneliness followed her. When she finished squatting and peeing as high on the slope as she could without tripping, she jogged carefully back to the boulder and tent. 

She breathed easier seeing his light, a welcome beacon in the darkness. Her fingers, however, grew cold with nervous energy. She was about to sleep with a man—alone—in the wilderness. He was no stranger, but her mind wondered if she should have given her offer more thought. Her stomach twisted. She had no idea what worried her so much—did he smell? Would he make fun of her if she snored? Would she wake up entangled with him and she would have to awkwardly explain that she likes to cuddle a huge body pillow at home? 

“Are you wet?” he asked.

Her throat tightened and she could only manage to get out, “Huh?”

“You look fine. My turn—hold down the fort—” Jaime had slipped his poncho on and stepped past her, braving the rainy night by himself.

It took her a few seconds to realize he went out to go to the bathroom. She slipped out of her rain jacket and set it under her tent’s rain cover.

When he returned, he said, “This thing’s going to burst.”

Looking at him, he referred to the rain cover above them. She frowned, still expecting him to throw in a joking line. When he turned to look at her and his light almost blinded her, she said, “We can take it down now, carefully.” Their backpacks and items were under the safety of her tent.

His light bumped up and down when he nodded. “I’ll take this side.”

Brienne stepped to the adjacent corner of the blue tarp he sacrificed to use as a cover—a nice gesture she had recently noticed. She pushed his charity out of her mind and opened her mouth to give instruction— 

“You know, I won’t—” he said, only loud enough for her to hear over the tapping rain. By the sound of his voice, she knew he might say something serious, or a joke. “I won’t force you...”

Her cold hands held onto the strings of one corner while he held onto another. Both of them paused to look at each other, but he said nothing. Bits of water fell onto her shoulders. She couldn’t find the bravery to interrupt his thoughts, whether they were genuine or meant to be funny. She didn’t know how to handle him being humorless.

Fingers almost numb, Brienne hardly felt the string pull lose when she lowered her hand. Movement above her head scared her, and by the time she thought to tell Jaime to pull his side, it had already been too late. A wave of cold rain water crashed over her as the roof collapsed. Ice cold water trickled down her spine, soaking into her pants, socks and boots.

——

They were fucked. Water flooded into his boots, and by the looks of it, Brienne was drenched. She stood there, unmoving, even after Jaime reached forward to grab her shoulders. Her body already shivered under his hands. There was nothing worse than being wet on a cold night—hypothermia wasn’t harmless. With zero firewood and no place to start a fire, she was fucked until she switched to dry clothing. His hands on her were pointless, ineffective. Her eyes widened to look at him, probably thinking how stupid he was for doing _nothing_ to help her.

Jaime let go of her and yanked his boots off, tossing them under the rain flap of her tent. He shivered—not from cold, but from fear.

“I have to change,” she said, more matter-of-factly than anything else she’d said that evening. She worried him further.

“Brilliant idea,” he said, able to hide his concern with his usual tone. “Did you want to take a quick swim in the creek before you start?”

Her headlight glared in his eyes, and he winced away. He peeled off his socks, standing on cold, wet ground.

“I can’t…” she said, “we need a fire.”

“Don’t think that, you’ll be fine without one,” he snapped. He didn’t mean to sound so angry, but the thought of apologizing silenced him. She’d murder him if he said sorry.

Jaime opened the tent, ducked inside and faced her. “Take your damn clothes off before I do it for you.” 

She stood there, dumbfounded and wet. Drops of rain fell in front of her light as she said, “I’m thinking, dammit, let me think.”

“Think faster.” Jaime flipped his backpack over and dumped clothes, blankets, packed food, wine tumblers and what _should_ have been his sleeping bag: his brand new air pad meant to go _underneath_ a sleeping bag. He looked over, and Brienne still hadn’t moved. “Come in here, sit in the far corner and take your damn clothes off. I won’t look. Can I get clothes for you, in your pack?”

She hesitated once more, followed by her thick and wet legs storming into the tent. Grumbling, she ducked her body into the open and lowest corner. Voice vicious, she said, “Where else would my clothes be?”

Jaime smirked. “Well, the clothes on you aren’t doing a very good job, are they?”

“Turn around,” she ordered.

So he did. He seated himself on the cold tent floor and tucked his bare feet underneath his calves for extra warmth—all while faced away from her. It took him no more than a few seconds to close the rain flap and tent, almost silencing them from the outside world. Rain tapped the rain cover and flaps resting on the tent. A long zip filled Jaime’s ear, and to ignore the sound of her undressing, he grabbed his navy fleece blanket. Several white dog hairs from home clung onto the fabric. “Wrap this around you in the meantime,” he said, tossing the blanket back to her without looking at her. 

After he hung his headlamp at the top and center of the tent, the light stabilized in the tent and he was ready to explore her backpack. Random burn marks, dirt and scuffs gave away her pack’s age, and his hands paused before he opened the top. Rummaging through her things felt… wrong. But this was survival.

He repeated the same grace as earlier and nearly dumped the contents out, but she had her pack far better organized than his. She had packed dehydrated meals—typical—and one of the oldest water filters he had ever seen. Once those were out of the way, he sank his hand deeper into the pack and felt soft cloth. It was too small to be anything significant, and his mind chose _not_ to linger on the possibilities of what it _was_ , so he explored further. He felt another small clothing item and pair of wool socks, nothing else. 

Throat now dry, he swallowed and asked without looking, “You keep your clothes in the main compartment?”

“Of course. Bottom is the sleeping bag.”

And she chastised _him_ for poor packing. Jaime grabbed what he felt and pulled the three items out: gray wool socks, a blue sports bra and... a green pair of Patadornia bikini panties. His heart raced and his mind laughed. Holding out the bra and panties, he said, “If you only have these in here, does that mean you forgot these the last time? Hike commando?”

The sound of her struggling out of wet clothes stopped. He imagined her blushing, and the thought came to smile, but he decided not to.

“You’re joking,” she said.

“I wish I was.” 

She leaned forward, brushing past him so she could dig in her own backpack. By doing so, she came into full view—hair wet against her bare back, sports bra snug on her skin and dip curved at her waist. Jaime opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She wore another pair of Patadornia panties, a dark gray to contrast with her pale skin. A surprise to him, almost no freckles were on her back. And her thighs, thick and muscular as the rest of her, were the same—

“How is this possible?” she said.

Jaime worried she had caught him staring, or worse, she had caught the effect of him seeing her almost naked. He snatched the navy blanket. Without asking, he tossed the blanket over her, covering as much skin as he could without touching her—his throat had never felt so tight.

Still half bent over, she groaned— _not_ the best thing to hear when his mind desperately tried to push lustful thoughts out of his head. This was absurd, he couldn’t think of her this way, she would never, _ever_ want to be with him—it was a waste of energy to even consider it. One wrong word, touch or look and he would be reported, fired and ridiculed further. The thought, although, echoed in his head like ringing in his ears after a concert. It didn’t matter that she impressed him more and more as time went on. She only liked him when he was snarky. He wasn’t good enough for Brienne Tarth—he’d never be good enough.

“They’re on my bed,” she said, and the anger in her voice brought him out of his own grief. “I forgot to pack them…”

Imagining her bed helped nothing, and he said, “Your bed sounds incredibly warm.”

The rain fell harder against the tent. He could focus on every drop, if he wanted to. Instead, he stared at Brienne, who was quiet and wrapped the navy blanket around her for comfort or _protection_ from him. She sat back, defeated. He could do more than offer a blanket.

“Take some of my clothes,” he said.

She tugged the blanket closer and glared. “Like _Big Brienne_ could fit in your clothes.”

Her tone captured his attention. He looked at her, her eyes fixed on the floor before they glanced at his.

It was clear, she hated her nickname just as much as she hated him.

——

Jaime looked at her with an expression she hardly saw. She didn’t know if he took her seriously or if he heard her words as a joke—but his eyes kept _staring._ If anything, he looked as hurt as she felt.

Brienne broke their gaze to look through her food, careful to cover herself with the blanket, _his_ blanket. Like an idiot, she packed only dehydrated food and a handful of trail mix. She couldn't light her stove inside a tent, and it was impossible to start a fire.

She said, “I guess this is the part where you get drunk off your wine?” She hated playing this game, but she couldn’t stop and neither could he. They would never get along.

Jaime hardly looked at her when he reached forward to grab the wine bottle. He closed his eyes and shook his head when he lifted the glass. “I grabbed the empty bottle. And no, this isn’t a joke.”

He was right. This evening wasn’t a joke. When hiking, mistakes had lethal potential, and there were more than enough stories to prove it. Brienne slowly pulled out her air pad and opened the nozzle. She puffed long breaths of air into the sleeping pad, glancing at Jaime every now and again while he fussed over his own food—intentionally ignoring her. Her sleeping pad was extra long and still not quite long enough, but it worked. 

Once full, she set the pad down and sat on it, immediately relieved from not sitting on the cold tent floor. Without asking, she filled his sleeping pad with air, and he still refused to acknowledge her. She felt guilty. Jaime was so focused on the most ridiculous thing she had ever seen: a charcuterie board.

He had packed a foldable cutting board and flattened it. On the board, he placed hard cheese slices, deli meats, dried apricots, salted olives and crackers. His work looked like a presentation at a suburban wine night. She wanted to kill him.

Brienne, at least, felt dry. Her sports bra and panties were a little wet, but she refused to take those off with him nearby. She didn’t want to hear gagging noises or whatever other jokes he saved up.

Jaime tossed the empty wine bottle into the pile of her wet clothes, far in the corner, and grabbed both wine tumblers. She watched as he carefully poured water from his backpack bladder into each small tumbler. Brienne frowned.

“Here,” he said, finally looking at her when he offered the tumbler. “Just pretend it’s wine.”

He was teasing her, surely. “I have my own water.”

“More wine for me, I suppose. What do you think of my plating?”

They both stared at the food, and her stomach twisted from the inside out. Smells of meat and cheese made breathing difficult. “It looks…” she said, unable to think of anything smart to say.

“Try some. Let’s share.”

She clenched his blanket.

“You look like you think I poisoned it, but you watched me make it. Take some. You have… squirrel food and a post-apocalyptic meal. It’s the least I can do.”

She wanted to cry. Brienne pressed her quivering lips together, looking at the board set between them. Their constant competing and battle wore her out. She could no longer keep track of who held leverage over the other—was it her because he missed the trail? Was it her because he forgot a sleeping bag? She forgot another set of clothes, got wet and packed poor meals. Thirty minutes prior, she would have considered how much Jaime would hold this offering over her head—but the sincere look in his eyes gave her hope. He was likely as hungry as her, if not more, and he had yet to take a single bite.

Brienne reached forward. Her fingers, slowly warming up, picked out a slice of prosciutto, a white hard cheese and a dense cracker.

After a day of horrors, she had never tasted anything better.

——

They ate in usual silence—a truce, if anything. He had packed enough food for them both, although he wouldn’t have crackers and fruit left over for breakfast. His sacrifice didn’t matter. They both needed a positive note, and for once, the quiet between them felt comfortable.

With his belly full and body clothed, Jaime offered to pack all the food in his backpack and hang it. He didn’t want any bears knocking on their door in the middle of the night, as warm as that sounded. It took him a dozen tries to throw the weighted rope over a branch in the rain, but he felt like a god when it worked. He covered his backpack with his poncho before he hoisted the pack mid air and between two trees. During every pull of the rope, he couldn’t erase the mental image of Brienne smiling while she ate.

When he returned to the tent, slightly wet, she didn’t look at him. She sat on her sleeping bag. It took him a few seconds to throw off his boots and close the tent. If they both could stand being enclosed together for the rest of the night, the warmth of the tent would increase over time. Jaime hated the chill of the air, and outside the tent, his breath had fogged his vision.

Brienne broke the silence and asked, “What do you mean by big?”

He slumped to a seat and tied his headlamp to the string at the ceiling of the tent, mostly trying to avoid how well her question ate at him. He had hurt her—and he had used that name for years. Now, he hated himself for using it.

He had called her big when he first met her because well, she was. She was taller than him, and not the skinny kind—thick, strong and… big. He could find her anywhere in the store with a single look, she was that tall. Her smile, when genuine, was big. Her heart, he learned over time, was big. He couldn’t be around her without noticing her—she had too much presence to ignore. Here she was, almost naked and wrapped in his blanket while he felt warm and snug in his own clothes. Jaime furrowed his brows, looking at the sleeping pad he sat on. “Let’s just say you have a big effect on me.”

“What does that mean?”

He wasn’t going to admit how he really felt—she would laugh at best and kill him at worst. “It’s not supposed to mean anything to you.”

“I’m asking what it means.”

“It’s not… meant to be insulting. Big isn’t... bad.” The rain bothered him—he wanted the loud, chaotic sound of drops to _stop._ Looking at her, she had been staring at him already. Her lips trembled, only once, but it was enough for him to feel like shit. She was cold, and she hated him enough to confront him. He lowered his eyes and said, “I didn’t know you hated it that much.”

Before she said anything, whether it was a joke or something to guilt him further, he unzipped his jacket and slipped it off.

“I don’t—” she paused, “what are you doing?”

He tossed his jacket to her. His hands pulled up the bottom of his shirt. “What it looks like. You should wear my clothes.”

“No,” she said, and the blush on her face was clear under the dim light of the tent. Her body turned to the side of the tent, enough to allow her to peek over every so often to see if he was joking. He wasn’t.

Jaime shoved his pants down. He balled up his shirt and pants and held them in front of her. She looked away, refusing to take them. 

“Fine,” he said, taking her refusal as another jab. He threw both items to the far corner and grabbed his other blanket, the color of ash. His arms, thighs and legs felt cold, but inside, he boiled with the anger, guilt and shame of everything. The only way he knew how to handle it was to talk. “It’s cold in here, and you refuse to admit it. You should do some jumping jacks, warm up the air.”

Her voice cracked. “Why don’t you?”

“Sure.”

She looked over once and quickly looked away. “Nevermind. Don’t.”

“I never meant to take Aerys’s job.”

He didn’t care if she refused to listen, she could walk out of that tent at any second and he wouldn’t stop her. If anything, he just wanted to get the truth off his chest—he was sick of the judgment and rumors, especially from her. He had never told Brienne the entire story.

“You know,” he said, “it was really hard to get anything done when he was manager. He even scared HR shitless, kept getting worse and worse. I had been with him years, and you only experienced him for a couple months. I watched him yell at customers who didn’t deserve it, and I watched him grope employees or guilt them into having dinner with him. I couldn’t do anything to help, and I couldn’t leave, not when all of that horrible shit was happening. He started obsessing over how everyone was against him and how everyone was wrong—he hid it well from a lot of employees. Some thought he was a weird, creepy and harmless old guy, but he was losing it. The night of his arrest, I found explosives in his office. All of those people there, innocent people, employees, me, you… He wanted to blow it all up. I called the police and confronted him.”

Brienne, wrapped in his blanket, faced him and frowned. “You tried to tell me, before...”

“I was drunk.”

Her lips twisted slightly, and he wondered what she contemplated. Maybe she thought he was weak. Instead of saying anything, she grabbed her blue sleeping bag and unzipped it.

“Do you believe me?” Jaime asked. The power of her words weighed over him to the point he felt sick.

“I do. I know we’ve both made our mistakes, whether with words or judgment. But I wouldn’t have—it sounds so silly—I wouldn’t have survived without you.”

His chest drowned in an unfamiliar warmth, one he couldn’t describe. She believed him. He only hoped the regret in his eyes were as visible as hers. After looking at him for a few seconds, she opened her sleeping bag. 

Jaime managed to say, “You’ve saved my ass more than once, just tonight.” He caught a faint smile of hers, and it encouraged him to continue. “You’re a great manager,” he said, “maybe even better than me.”

“Maybe,” she said with a mild grin.

“What I mean to say, is that while I find this… competition fun, I really admire you. You’re one of the few honorable managers we have. You’re consistent, smart—”

“Look at us,” she said, revealing a peek of her bare collarbone. He didn’t need a suggestion to look at her—his armor was already falling apart—and what he found underneath scared him more than anything else. He didn’t just admire her. He had fallen in love with her, at one point or another. His feelings for her were a gradual change, so slow burning he hadn’t noticed. 

Still, he couldn’t admit how much he cared for her. He forced a smile and said, “It’s by choice that we’re like this—sort of.”

While she flattened her open sleeping bag against her sleeping pad, Jaime added, “What are you doing?”

“I figured we could share the sleeping bag beneath us. I could take both blankets and you use your clothes, or…”

She wanted to _share._ Of course, he had no interest in putting his clothes back on. Of course, he loved the idea of sleeping within arms reach of her—only a pair of blankets between them. “Oh, no, if it’s not clear by now that we’re suffering through the same challenges together, we’re doing it wrong.”

“O-okay,” she said, her voice more timid than expected. “Are you ready?”

He had said something wrong—he knew it. Or she hated him still. Even then, his mistake changed nothing about how he felt. His mind raced and his heart tumbled. “Is there room?”

“I think so.”

“Do you… want the light off?”

She nodded. Her lips pressed together.

He turned the headlamp off, and darkness swallowed them both. She rustled around, somehow grazing her bare foot over his knee for a moment—Jaime nearly died. When she mumbled an apology, he lurched in the opposite direction and breathed as deeply and as quietly as he could without sounding like a rabid animal. This was unheard of—no one just wound up almost naked in the middle of nowhere with their infatuation, tension so dense he couldn’t move a muscle without thinking about her. The rain no longer sounded oppressive, it was romantic. Inside, Jaime panicked.

“Are you not ready?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” he said, and through the shadows of the tent, he saw her wrapped under the blanket, lying down and back facing away from him. She couldn’t stand him still.

Slowly lowering himself, he settled on the other half of her sleeping bag, which was on top of his sleeping pad. He knew he shouldn’t have watched her blow the sleeping pads up—the image froze in his memory. Now, she rested within half an arm’s reach, but he still felt cold. All the blood and excitement from his heart pooled lower, and the mere thought of her laying so closely made him bite his lip.

She said, “I know this… sounds silly but, if we need to scoot closer or—you know, lean on each other, just know I’m fine with it.”

“Sounds great. Sure.” 

It might have been the worst thing to say because his cock couldn’t have agreed more. He was hard. He was paranoid. If she looked over, maybe she’d see it—and label him a creep. If he cuddled her, which he _desperately_ wanted to do, she’d feel him and think he was a creep.

She cleared her throat.

Jaime remained still. He couldn’t bring himself to touch her—she’d either kill him for assaulting her or he’d never fall asleep with her in his arms. He was a fucking fool for agreeing and a fucking fool for getting lost.

Uncomfortable silence came between them. He hoped she had fallen asleep, but she moved every minute or so—still faced away from him. Whenever he felt soft enough to scoot closer, his problem returned.

Through darkness, he watched as she tugged her blanket closer.

Neither of them could sleep.

He couldn’t stand whatever this was anymore.

“How do you feel?” he asked. “Cold, angry?”

She inhaled a breath. “Vulnerable.”

Jaime winced and turned on his side, facing her back. Of course she would feel vulnerable—after years of false rumors and strange outbursts, she had every reason to fear him. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“It’s not that. I’d rather be like this with you than anybody else.”

He knew Hyle and Brienne well enough to know her statement was true, if she meant the group of other managers. Even so, he admired how easily she admitted her feelings. He wasn’t sure how to put his admiration into words. “It’s so… difficult to become vulnerable. I wish I could be as vulnerable as you are.”

“Vulnerable about what?”

“How I feel… about you.” Gods, he was a fool. She was about to laugh in his face and laugh at him for years— 

“I don’t… really want to hear how much you hate me or how you’ll suffer through this.”

“Brienne,” he said while she sniffled once. He frowned. “I don’t hate you.”

“Why else would you not touch me? It’s fine.”

Jaime considered biting his tongue—fuck it. “Because I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

“Stop joking, just don’t tell anyone I said anything—’

“I’m not joking, Brienne.”

He didn’t know where to touch her, but at least his cock had been scared silent by fear. She didn’t hate him—she worried he hated her—and the realization crushed him. Jaime scooted closer, underneath her blanket. Reaching over her tucked arm, bare and faintly cold, he found her cheek wet. 

Jaime wiped her tears, and her lower jaw quivered in his hand. It felt amazing to hold her but horrible to feel her cry. He waited for her to flinch away—but she didn’t. Leaning closer, he spooned her, chest against back and thighs against thighs. His arm brushed over her chest, feeling her uneven breaths. He wasn’t sure what emotion to feel: fear of rejection, sadness for hurting her or anger for his years of mistakes and general dirtbagness. All three feelings affected him as much as the chill in the air.

The urge to apologize came again and again. Instead of speaking, he rested his cheek on her neck and squeezed her closer. No longer faint, her scent surrounded him. If he had dragged his lip against her skin, he would have tasted her. Her cheek moved and his thumb met her mouth. Her lips felt as soft as he imagined, barely shaking at the edge of his thumb. Maybe she regretted this—he was too forward—or maybe she felt the same. 

When he was about to pull back, convinced she was uncomfortable, her hand clasped around his forearm. She pulled his arm closer to her chest, gently squeezing him. Relief spread over him while he buried his head deeper against her neck, between her firm shoulders and nest of damp hair. Her lips no longer quivered—they parted.

He kissed her neck, tasting her sweat when he wet his lips and kissed her skin again. She whimpered. Jaime scooted closer, bringing his body flush with hers. They fit perfectly, they always had. Her hand trailed down his forearm, soon leaving to move down his side. The feeling of her fingers over his briefs made him sigh over her neck. Fingers clenched on the tops of his thighs, she pulled him closer—

Jaime leaned up, she leaned back. With his hand guiding her cheek to face him, tears long dry, he kissed her—her lips tasted sweet. Their hands turned feverish, desperate to explore each other. The lower he went, the warmer she felt. Her thighs were both soft and strong under his palm. He had lost count of how many times he kissed her skin. She wiggled out of her sports bra, and the sudden scent of _her_ made him weak. Over thick muscles, her breasts were soft against his jaw and mouth, much softer than her fingers spreading and gripping through his hair. This spar was new, a welcome fight.

She leaned forward, kissing along his forehead when she pulled him closer—practically tripping his body over hers. This feeling, an unknown nervousness deep within him, gave him a burst of smiles. He felt happy.

They tangled themselves, lost in the new sensations of each other’s hands, lips and bodies together. Both of them moaned when Brienne shoved down his briefs, her fingers greedy as they wrapped around his cock. If she told him to jump off a cliff, he just might have done it. He was hers, and he let her take the lead—not knowing what she wanted.

Her hand left him and shoved down her panties. Jaime hovered over her and muttered, “I didn’t pack condoms.” He endured another fucking mistake.

She kicked her panties off underneath him and said, “I trust you.”

He wondered if he misheard her. The rain continued its random taps on the tent roof and with enough dumbfounded staring, he saw her eyes focused on his. Their heads stuck out from underneath the blankets, and their bodies warmed together. One move to the left or right would return a burst of cold air, but neither of them wanted to leave. If he did this—it wasn’t for warmth or loneliness, it was for love.

Lowering himself, Jaime kissed the skin in front of her ear and said, “I trust you more than anyone.”

——

With Jaime above her and in her arms, Brienne was safe. It took tears falling down her cheeks for her to admit she had fallen in love with him. 

He had never hated her—he was _hard_ — for _her_. Every moment she doubted his admission never happened, his cock, hands or lips brushed against her skin with such desire it couldn’t be denied.

Hairs stood on end despite the warm air. His arms flexed beside her since he hovered over her—Brienne wanted him closer. Instead of pushing him away, something she had trained herself to do for years, she tugged. She no longer expected him to mock her—he had every reason and more to make fun of her at her most vulnerable moment—but he had kissed her.

Warmth increased in the tent and in her heart, and when Jaime reached between her thighs, he moaned loudly enough for her to forget the rain.

Every point of contact thawed her, bit by bit. She wrapped her legs around him—her knees poking out from their blanketed cover. Jaime sank lower on her, lips kissing the base of her neck while his cock teased her. He hesitated. Brienne leaned her head back, inhaling colder air until he entered her—she no longer worried about the cold, or anything other than holding him as closely as she could. Grinding into her, chest against chest, they meant to warm each other.

Just an hour prior, she would have never guessed they would unarmor themselves to this point. Despite his firm grip, he was tender. She whimpered at the sound of him or when he rolled his forehead against her chest. Every thrust teased her, so she reached between their bodies to touch herself. It felt foreign to trail the back of her hand against his abs and groin, and her cheeks grew hot again.

He pulled back, skin leaving hers. Panic refused to take control of her, but relief made her smile when he guided her to her side. He settled behind her, spooning closer than he did before. His hand snaked down her side, rising and falling along the curves of her waist and hip—all underneath their warm blankets. He reached his hand over, his hand lost in the curls between her thighs. She closed her eyes, realizing he had always known her well enough to know what she wanted.

Brienne found his hip and pulled him closer. Jaime wrapped one arm underneath hers and stroked her, thrusting forward. She set the pace, grinding back and holding still over him. Every thrust and touch brought her closer—and she had thought she was going to cry herself to sleep. Instead, moans melted from them both.

He leaned back, sinking deeper into her—the sensation so white and blinding pleasant, even in darkness. Her hand found his, his fingers wet, hot and pulsing against her. So close, she thrust herself harder onto his cock—Jaime growled in response, soon biting her shoulder. Hand now on his thigh, her fingers gripped hard as she started to come. Warmth spread through her like fire, and she had forgotten what it felt like to be cold. 

——

The sound of her coming almost finished him—he _made_ her come—and it made him feel powerful. By the sound of her moans and breathing, he _was_.

She dripped over him, from his hand to his cock, and when she jerked away from his strokes, he stopped. Her hand, however, pulled his hips closer. To match her, he gripped the widest part of her hip and fucked her—chasing release. Her moans became wild.

He had worried he would be too rough, but she clenched his thigh and encouraged him, grinding herself back to force him deeper. 

“I’m close,” he warned, but she did more of the same. He had yet to tell her how sexy she was when she was assertive—but the oncoming orgasm was proof enough. Jaime pulled her closer, burying his head against her back the moment he came, thrusts slow and deliberate while they ground against one another—as if they had done this before, as if they knew exactly what the other wanted, as if they had been in love for years.

They were both hot, just below the point of sweating. The smell of sex filled the tent and the air was warm when Jaime stretched to find the roll of toilet paper, near the portable shovel. He bit his lip when they separated, but it wasn’t for long. He laid on his back and Brienne snuggled into him.

They cleaned up and held each other, not minding that their feet tangled outside the blankets. He was right, movement warmed the tent, but sex was better than jumping jacks. 

The rain, once aggravating and once annoying, was now hypnotic. The sounds almost lulled Jaime while he held her, perfectly comfy. 

He couldn’t _not_ say anything. “I’m glad we can agree on one thing,” he said.

Strands of her hair tickled the side of his chest. “Can we agree again in the morning?”

“We can agree as many times as you like.”

——

The clouds had disappeared by morning. Their tent was warm, and neither of them wanted to move—but when they did, groans came due to sore muscles. Brienne’s head ached from caffeine withdrawal and lips smiled when Jaime pulled her closer. Not even fifteen minutes after lazily waking, their stomachs growled and their mouths were dry. Reluctantly, they pulled off their blankets and started their day.

Jaime dressed first, offering to grab his pack and water to filter. Before he left, they shared a packet of instant coffee mixed with cold water in the wine tumblers. The bitter caffeine tasted horrible, but they smiled at each other anyway.

When he left the tent, cold air rushed in. Brienne reached for his pile of clean clothes, knowing her clothes were still wet. His shirt fit her well, surprisingly, and it smelled like him. The legs of his pants fit tight, but the waist snapped closed. Still cold, she slipped her rain jacket on to fight the weather. 

He returned with his wet poncho and dry backpack. Together, they ate trail mix for breakfast in the tent, stealing shy glances with one another. Their relationship was all new territory. His eyes didn’t linger on her because he hated her—it was just the opposite. Even their conversations took a vulnerable turn because Jaime asked if she still had her IUD. She considered joking with him to see if his face would turn white, but she decided against it. For a second, he looked relieved, followed by his characteristic smirk.

Their boots were still damp, but thick wool socks provided some protection. She felt sad to slip them on, not because they were cold, but because it meant they would leave this place—a place she had been lucky to find.

As a team, they filtered water, packed their gear and helped one another adjust their backpacks on. They both looked around before setting off on the trail. Her dying phone battery allowed for several pictures of the creek and boulder in the glowing light of morning. Brienne reminded herself that while walking back to the parking lot was sad, it was only the beginning of something new.

Their hike began, and Brienne walked in front. It took about thirty minutes for Jaime to start an argument on whose place had the better shower. She insisted hers was better, which he reluctantly agreed to test out. 

Every fifteen minutes or so, he said he wanted a break. He never looked out of breath, and by the third time, she realized he only said he wanted to take a break to kiss her. 

The trail and mountains turned orange in the sunrise. Once they walked out of the riparian zone, ocotillos and jumping cholla greeted them from a distance. Birds danced between cacti. Wet dew from the creosote bush gave the air a distinct desert, rainy scent. Brienne smiled, and grinned wider when Jaime asked at what point she had feelings for him. They discussed their history for an hour, completely open and honest about what frustrated them and what inspired them about each other.

At the fork of the trail, Jaime suggested they take the wrong turn—and Brienne considered it. They laughed as they hypothesized what the other managers would think, and what their story _should_ be. 

Brienne was relieved every time she rounded a corner and the group wasn’t in sight. She never wanted to find them. The sun warmed the back of her legs, and Jaime kept commenting on how good she looked in his clothes—she blushed even in the humid and cold bite of morning. Dirt under her feet was still damp, but by sundown, most evidence of the rain would be gone.

She hesitated when she saw the parking lot in the far distance. Jaime stepped beside her and stopped for another break—so long as no one caught them kissing. She knew they could always return, with much better packing next time. Squeezing his hand in hers, the hopeful look in his eyes encouraged her.

Side by side on the final stretch, they walked together. A surprising sight caught Brienne’s attention in the distance. A bobcat had climbed up a saguaro and watched them from afar—perched on the top of the cactus, untouched by spines.


End file.
